Risen
by The King in White
Summary: The World-Eater wakes, yet Tamriel has no Dragonborn Champion. Thus it falls to Tiber Septim alone, the Man Who Became A God, to become man once more, and raise the banner.


**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything from The Elder Scrolls franchise, and I make no profit writing this.

(AN): Honestly, I know that the preaching priest in Whiterun annoys a lot of players, and makes most of the rest laugh their tits off. Yet lately I've been getting into Skyrim quite a bit (more than you'd like probably, since it distracts me from writing), and one thing that Heimskr struck me with as I was listening was there were obvious parallels between Talos and others.

Ascended from man to rule the realm of spirit, as it were.

This is heavily inspired by _The Edge of Madness _by Aryk von Straln. At least in terms of having one of the greater spirits descend to Tamriel.

* * *

_"Let me show you the power of Talos – Stormcrown; born of the North, where my breath is long winter."_

* * *

Cerulean mist shivered and twisted in the heavens, crimson blooming through the bright ribbons of spirit even as Alduin roared triumphantly and pushed through time, breaking forth into the snow-covered hinterlands of Skyrim. Ebony wings unfurled, lurching the consumer of worlds into the frigid sky.

The challenging shout of the dragon rocked across Tamriel; travelling in realms more esoteric and spritual to be heard by every creature within the confines of their soul. And as one, they shivered.

No dragon's soul took up the gauntlet to screech back in fury and defiance, no man or woman stood still as the Dovah within urged them to rise and slay dragons – to stand and be counted.

There was no Dovahkiin to oppose him, and with a mocking laugh Alduin shouted to the heavens above and the voids below:

"This land is _mine_!"

Black and terrible, with a hunger for the souls of mortals, the World Eater wheeled through the sky unopposed.

* * *

Dark eyes narrowed, and the Dragon of the North leaned back into a throne of clearest ruby. Red as blood and of purer stone than any that could ever be found on Tamriel, the seat of divine Talos was a more impressive sight than the throne of the mortal kings and emperors could aspire to become.

The God who was once Tiber Septim thinned his lips, frowning through his close cropped auburn beard as he considered the two-headed man who loomed over him. The head of a dragon and the head of a great bearded grandfather both stared down at Talos as the god with two heads stood before his younger compatriot.

Akatosh never kneeled before anyone.

"So you leave this until now, when your first born son batters down the walls of time to consume Tamriel to tell me that there is no Dragonborn to challenge him?" Ysmir questioned, his tone as insolent as he would have ever dared to make it to the Chief of the Divines.

"Indeed." Auri-El replied dryly. "I have made many Dovahkiin in my lifetime. Alessia. Reman Cyrodiil. _You_. You left many descendants Tiber Septim. Bastards and bastards of bastards. You have had children born on the illegitimate side of the sheets in your family tree for hundreds of years. I had counted that one of your many descendants would rise up and take the call."

"However," the elder god cut off the younger when the newest Divine opened his mouth. "What I did not anticipate was the dogged run of misfortune that has followed your heirs. Assassinated. Taken by sickness. Sterility. And despite that, your line endured. Until the last heir of your blood was slain two weeks ago in a bandit raid. I had pinned my expectations on him. Yet now it seems that we are without hope."

Red-gold eyebrows rose. "Surely there is something to be done? Some hidden son? Some secret plan?"

"Nothing." Akatosh denied. "While the death of your descendant would not have been a great loss on its own – I have been debating blessing the line of Titus Mede with my blood. That it should happen at this juncture is damning. I can water mankind with my blood now, but there will not be the time to have them grow and rise before Alduin consumes the world."

Ageless white eyes stared into Talos'. "I tell you now because when the world ends your strength will be needed to build the next. You have inherited Lorkhan's power for your own, and this is your duty as one of us."

The dragon head hissed, tasting the air with a flickering tongue before the eldest god turned on the spot and vanished. Talos wordlessly permitted the barreling spirit of Akatosh to flee his realm without fuss.

The hall was empty, and none objected when Talos rose to his feet and left the throne unoccupied.

Down Tiber Septim went; deep into the uncharted depths of his castle, weighing the future in his mind.

The Emperor had left the mortal world behind when he'd ascended to become the Ninth of the Divines.

Yet of all the Aedra, only Akatosh meddled more. Auri-El had worked to preserve his creation for as long as he could. And when it came time for the burning and rebirth of that creation, the Dragon God of Time could only accept it as the due course of fate.

Talos too, worked to preserve his creation. The Empire he'd founded had enjoyed his patronage in its endeavors until it had turned its back on him. By rights, it was well past the time for him to have moved on.

But Talos the God had been born Hjalti of Atmora – last mortal son of that frigid land. And he remembered whence he came.

Thus it was that the Lord of War and Patron of Questing Heroes passed down into the darkness of his realm, among the hidden shattered remnants of his predecessor where none dared tread for fear of the Trickster, and knelt.

The knife Talos Stormcrown drew forth glimmered like moonlight, with captured starfire lit along the edges. A peerless weapon.

With only a slight pause of hesitation, the red haired god drew the blade across his heart, splitting skin and sinew and bone without resistance. Drawing forth a pulsing red gem, Tiber Septim surrendered the heart of Lorkhan to the place of hidden secrets and dead gods, and smiled around a crimson mouth.

"This is my blood, which has been given up for you."

Talos fell, tumbling through mist and shredded divinity like a meteor to realms below.

* * *

(AN): A very short 930 words it feels. Never fear my intrepid souls, the chapters will vastly lengthen. I guess it just feels to me almost as if this chapter must be a scene on its own because of the tone of it all. It's not that simple to write Gods, I think.

Anyway, it's been a percolating idea the last few days. I figured I might as well get it down. I don't know how frequent this will be updated, or anything like that.

Just let me know you tentative thoughts about the subject matter. It's inspired by The Edge of Madness, but I intend to take a far different track than that story in regards to the overall theme of this.


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